


Little Fish under the Lily

by JackedofSpades



Category: Imperial Radch Series - Ann Leckie
Genre: F/F, flirting through poetry, radchaai flirting is so involved and dumb, wow i really dont know how to tag this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2016-05-23
Packaged: 2018-06-10 04:59:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6940819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackedofSpades/pseuds/JackedofSpades
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ok so the premise for this was that Radchaai flirt and court each other by writing handwritten notes of poetry or at least in some sort of verse. I have no idea how to really do verse of any sort so I just sort of BSed and wrote what I wanted to write.</p><p>So basically this is an exchange of back and forth handwritten notes between Tisarwat and Piat after the events of Ancillary Mercy. Hopefully they aren't too OOC but tbh we didn't have a whole lot to go on anyway so forgive me for projecting on to them.<br/>In any case these two deserve to be happy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Fish under the Lily

**Author's Note:**

> There really isn't a proper end to this. I might write more if anyone wants me too but like, I doubt it lmao. I'll probably just write some actual fic of them.
> 
> Anyway enjoy, fic starts with Tisarwat's note in purple and Piat is in green. (what can I say, the Homestuck system works)
> 
> EDIT: lmao it just dawned on me they cant send hand written notes when Tisarwat is away from Station so just imagine they send like... pictures of the notes or actually write it out on a console or something idfk.

You are like a little fish,  
in the gardens,  
keeping to the corners  
of the pond.  
You flit behind the koi,  
the carp, who splash  
and gasp  
at those who throw them favors.  
You stand by, quiet and demure,  
your passive face so beautiful  
and calm  
among the chaos.  
I cannot reach you,  
here on the bridge,  
where the koi crowd around  
at the simple sight of me.  
But I can wait, little fish,  
until the others tire  
and leave us alone.  
When that time comes,  
won't you swim closer  
and let me see you?

 

Your time is precious, and I  
have never mastered such a quality.  
Better for you, if you'll forgive me,  
to leave the bridge,  
to swim away from my pond  
back into the great black sea,  
From which you so  
elegantly,  
effortlessly  
emerged.  
For I have no bite, you see,  
and wish not to be your catch today,  
caught on the hook  
only  
because of the hope,  
that my scales  
might one day shine.

 

Little fish, whose own tail  
sits on your nose.  
It is wrapped around, I think,  
your lovely face,  
For why else would you be  
unable to see,  
what is plain?  
Your pond waters are murky,  
at best,  
if they convince you of such things.  
Do not listen to them.  
They had tricked me once, too.  
Yet I would rather there linger,  
and forsake the sea,  
if just one of your scales,  
even dull and lack,  
were ever to reflect the color  
purple.

 

A koi gapes up at me,  
as I sit, reading your words,  
in the gardens.  
Shocked I think, she,  
that you would speak such things  
to me.  
Like her, I find  
I lament the lack of lily pads  
in my murky pond,  
for every day  
I find fewer places  
to hide from you.

 

Hide among the lilies;  
But you are more lovely than they,  
and I should think  
it would be poor camouflage.  
Still,  
I will pretend to look the other way,  
as I see you underneath the waters  
with your friend the koi.  
But when I walk away,  
why is it that,  
on last stolen glance,  
I see your face  
peering up at me?

 

Who would not hide  
and yet look for you?  
I am only doing that which  
anyone would do.  
You yourself  
cannot suffer your gaze,  
and so you should only  
sympathize.  
The color angers you  
and yet,  
it remains.  
I wonder back to that first night  
when careless,  
I spoke out of turn.  
Station told me you kept them  
because of what I said.  
How could it be?

 

You should have more faith  
in Station,  
in me,  
and in yourself.  
But yes, if you must hear it,  
you defied Amaat that day,  
I think,  
when I diverged from my path,  
the morning cast,  
that had told me that day  
was to be the day.  
I had been set as stone  
on their fate.  
But then  
ridiculed by strangers,  
at afternoon tea,  
I saw you  
and I heard you speak,  
clear and bright,  
above the others' laughter.  
Your gaze was dangerous and  
voice strong.  
You said you found them lovely,  
refreshing among so much darkness,  
much how I  
find you.  
Since that day  
my violet gaze  
has rarely fallen on much else  
but you, little fish.

 

Oh,  
keep your color  
if you must.  
But I still suggest a trip to medic.  
I am not sure they are working  
Properly  
if always  
they look upon me.

 

You make me laugh, little fish.  
But I will go to medic,  
if only to prove my devotion  
and perhaps  
my own stubbornness.  
I do find it interesting,  
if I might risk your contempt  
further,  
that this morning I woke  
to find an invitation.  
I wonder,  
who could possibly  
want me at dinner?  
I did not miss your house name  
on the invitation,  
nor the lack of the first name  
of your mother's.

 

Oh how could you have been so bold  
at the dinner party?  
It was a mistake,  
I knew.  
So many could have seen,  
as you stood so near,  
as if you were,  
as if we were -  
But no, that was your  
intention?  
I saw it in your smile,  
the one you flashed  
for me alone.  
Even so, you went too far  
when you brushed my wrist  
and slipped your latest string  
of purple prose  
into my glove.  
The note from medic, too?  
You are too much  
and I,  
too little.  
Is there anywhere left  
for me to hide?

 

I no longer see you  
at the gardens,  
nor below them,  
and too rarely above.  
Your messages are quick,  
and you send only Station  
when before I received  
your pretty stationary.  
You have given up hiding  
and now only  
run.  
You forget how fast  
a Mercy can fly.

 

You speak as if  
you would ever grace me  
with mercy.  
No, you would pursue me  
all the way to Tstur  
and back.  
You and your  
tenacious,  
foolhardy  
crew.  
Please, my friend  
I know this is a game to you.  
It must be,  
because you play me so well.  
Tire of me soon,  
I have no stomach  
for these games  
of intrigue.  
My heart would ache at more,  
oh, but also,  
at less.  
Give me your mercy,  
and let my heart swim free again  
in my little pond.  
I know you keep it  
in your little room,  
on your little ship.  
It is trapped in a tea bowl  
of which we both know  
the color.

 

Just because I play the game well  
and win often  
does not mean I play with you.  
No, I have known  
what you have known.  
If nothing else,  
I would protect you.  
But your words wound me,  
all the same.  
You speak as if  
the morning cast  
does not spell out your name.  
As if they don't fall the same way  
every day  
telling me to invite you to tea.  
And when again  
you do not appear,  
I drink alone.  
Even so,  
a smile appears on my face  
when the leaves  
in the bottom of my cup  
spell out your name.  
In the afternoon  
when I go to temple  
I look for you,  
and when I do not find you  
still I smile,  
because the incense swirls above me  
sweet and heavy on my senses,  
and spells out your name.  
When I go to dinner,  
my invitation to you,  
is ignored,  
yet again I smile,  
as Fleet Captain hums to herself.  
The sounds, to me,  
spell out your name.  
Have you found your last hiding place,  
in the lilies,  
little fish?

 

Is it true?  
When I awoke this morning,  
Station spoke softly  
telling me  
you had gone,  
your Mercy fled.  
When I asked Station why  
it assured me  
it was on order  
and yet  
my heart aches.  
It is because you took it with you.  
My weak heart,  
does not belong  
in the limbo  
of gate space,  
between knowing  
and not knowing,  
between hope and delusion.  
Oh, I am told  
if you look out at it  
it is a void of black  
that is too much.  
That it will twist you  
and make you feel  
not yourself.  
I am linked to you  
only in that  
I feel that way too.  
My chest now is empty  
and must be  
a gate of its own.  
If only you would have returned my heart  
before you left;  
But you took it with you,  
so jealous,  
as if I could have possibly given it  
to anyone else.

 

Worry not, my little fish.  
Your heart is safe,  
and keeps me company.  
I feel it warm and fretting  
as I hold it,  
bare handed.  
Yes, I am selfish, to take it,  
but there is a part of me,  
or was me,  
or will be me,  
that will always want to take;  
But the better part of me  
the younger,  
more violet part,  
knows I had your permission.  
I will see you again  
after my 18th birthday.  
I will have a gift for you  
when I return.  
I'll give you a hint  
as to what it is:  
It is something you already have  
and it would fit perfectly  
in the hollow  
of my breast.

 

Oh, but it is cruel  
that you are so close.  
The Ghost Gate  
truly does haunt this system,  
haunts me,  
knowing it keeps me from you.  
It terrifies me  
that only a week of your absence  
would turn me into your creature.  
Was it not I,  
who only days before,  
was asking to be freed?  
Was asking  
for your mercy?  
It is true what they say:  
Never wish for a cast to appear  
as it always will  
and always, you will regret.

 

I will see you soon, little fish.  
Only three turns of Athoek  
around its axis.  
My birthday was today.  
Lieutenant Seivarden joked with me,  
as we drank far too much arrack.  
She asked me  
what I wanted.  
I nearly blurted out your name.  
She laughed when my hand,  
obscenely,  
shot to my mouth,  
as if she did not already know  
whose name was on my lips.  
How impulsive I still am,  
and how very much,  
I miss you.

 

I am so very glad  
to have missed your birthday.  
I think had I been there,  
I might have been too inclined  
to give you what you wanted.  
How terrible,  
all of this is!  
I don't even have it in me  
to deny it:  
I miss you too.

 

I do not think I have been so happy  
in all my life,  
as when I saw your face falter  
when you saw me  
at the docks.  
You were about to run,  
as always,  
but I am not so sure  
about your intended direction.  
I was so proud of you,  
when you stayed,  
kept your composure,  
and politely invited Fleet Captain  
to dinner tonight.  
Even she,  
oblivious as ever,  
saw how your gaze fell on me,  
even as you spoke to her.  
Behind my back,  
and in my gloved hands,  
I felt your heart beat wildly;  
I do not want to give it back.

 

You must have felt it,  
since you seem to clutch it  
so tightly,  
when my heart stopped.  
It was when you took my hand  
under the table.  
I was prepared to let you  
rest it innocently  
On my thigh.  
I should have known better,  
and I nearly choked,  
as your fingers laced with mine.  
Your gloves were so thin!  
You got new ones (purple)  
just to do that, didn't you?  
You don't have to answer.  
I know you.  
Oh, Lieutenant,  
I have forgotten all about  
ponds,  
and lily pads.

 

If your heart stopped,  
I did not notice.  
I was too busy with my own.  
It swelled and nearly burst  
when you  
so quickly  
opened your palm to mine.  
You say you have forgotten  
about lilies,  
but our hands together made one.  
I can think of nothing else,  
but the feeling of your fingers,  
and the warmth of your thigh,  
on the back of my hand.  
Bo Three, this morning,  
asked me why I hadn't slept;  
what troubled me?  
I responded:  
"Nothing in this great Universe."  
Her confusion was matched  
only by her amusement.

 

You may not have slept,  
but I did.  
And oh, of course,  
I dreamt of you.  
I was so embarrassed  
when in the morning,  
Station suggested I invite you  
to my room tonight.  
Amaat preserve me,  
why did I tell you that?

 

How cross I was,  
this afternoon.  
After getting your note,  
I had nearly run to the elevator,  
only to be stopped by the translator.  
Zlique?  
Deiat?  
Amaat, who cares.  
She stopped me in my tracks,  
delighted to see me again,  
apparently.  
I made the mistake of letting slip,  
some ridiculous line  
about how I was on my way,  
to return your heart to you.  
I have only ever made  
one larger mistake  
in all my life.  
Never mention organs  
of any sort  
to them.  
Three hours later and I am still  
not free of her.  
Some part of me  
feels it would be appropriate  
to shoot her.  
If only that gun  
were still around.

 

Lieutenant I do hope  
you were utilizing metaphor,  
in your last.  
Oh, but even so,  
how awful of me,  
to be flattered  
all the same.  
How I would have died myself,  
had you actually shown up tonight!  
Aatr’s tits -  
I would have  
let you  
in.

 

I stopped by your quarters today.  
Your mother was home,  
and you were not.  
I knew you would not approve  
of me doing anything  
in public.  
So I politely  
and quickly  
invited her to dinner  
on behalf of the Fleet Captain.  
Gods.  
Lieutenant Seivarden was so angry.  
Apparently she and Fleet Captain  
had plans.  
I owe her two bottles of arrack  
for that misstep.  
But at least I might have the chance  
to see you tonight.  
Swim to the bridge,  
with your mother, the koi,  
my little fish.

 

How presumptuous of you,  
to think I would simply change  
my plans,  
And join my mother,  
all because of your social  
faux pas.

-

I'll see you at seven,  
though I have nothing to wear.

 

You looked stunning tonight,  
in your muted scales.  
I know you were embarrassed,  
that you'd worn those gloves before,  
but as last time,  
you looked lovely.  
And I saw how you caught my eye,  
in the reflection  
of the window.  
I know you would have followed me  
to my room,  
had we been able.  
You'll have to forgive  
Lieutenant Seivarden, though.  
I don't think she realized  
you returned my feelings.  
Thank Amaat then,  
that no one else heard her.

 

It is driving me mad,  
these un-coincidences  
that keep us apart.  
I heard that tomorrow,  
you are going downwell for three days.  
Does Amaat truly wish us apart?  
Begging her great pardon,  
but Amaat be damned.  
Oh,  
Look what you've done to me.  
I'm off to temple,  
to make amends.

 

I followed you,  
though I am pleased to say,  
you didn't notice.  
I was already out, I swear.  
In fact, I was out buying you a gift.  
Don't worry,  
Station let me slip in,  
unseen.  
I left it on your palette.  
You can spend the next three days,  
knowing I lingered,  
running a bare hand,  
across your pillow.

 

I take back everything.  
You are bent on destroying me.  
There can be no other reason,  
for the things  
you do to me.  
Why must you make me ache?  
I would go to medical,  
if I wasn’t so embarrassed to admit the cause.  
You must know,  
I can't accept your gift.  
I've hidden it for now,  
under my lily pad.  
Maybe,  
had you chosen anything  
but purple,  
I could have perhaps,  
oh, but -  
Gods.  
Even my mother  
has never been gifted  
gloves this fine.  
It really is awful,  
this hold you have of me.  
I'm wearing them even now,  
as I write this.  
You tyrant,  
I hope you’re happy.

 

I am glad you liked your gift  
so much.  
I can barely stand the wait to see you,  
swimming past the koi,  
as they all gape and wonder  
to see my little fish,  
with her purple scales.  
Will they know?  
If not,  
they will soon  
when I return.  
Standing on the garden’s bridge  
they will see you take my arm,  
and how my eyes  
fall to your gloves  
and match.  
Will you still wish to run  
or hide  
when you learn this?  
I've been cleared for three personal days.  
Station has told me  
that somehow  
your mother has been called downwell  
on the same days.  
What a  
coincidence.


End file.
